


no man is an island

by laralein



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, I guess it's canonverse, Sansa-centric, Season/Series 07 Spoilers, everyone is angry - in a diplomatic way, other tags might pop up as we go along, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:11:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11953701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laralein/pseuds/laralein
Summary: Sansa and Arya learn of Jon's true parentage while he and Daenerys are on their way to Winterfell. With the Long Night upon them they have to figure out how to live with the decisions Jon made whilst in the South and how to juggle politics in a time where a united front is the only hope to survival.





	1. in winter we must look after one another

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Obviously none of the characters, places or basic plot points as seen in either the ASoIaF books or the GoT tv show or any other official material belong to me and I have no intention to make money with this.  
> Title is from Black Flies by Ben Howard

They were in the Lord’s chambers. A fire cackling, Bran sitting in front of it in his chair, Samwell Tarly to his right. Ghost was lying in the corner. Watching. Perfectly still, like he always was. 

When Bran stopped talking, Arya stopped pacing. “I don’t believe it”, she crossed her arms at Bran, accusingly, and for a second Sansa saw the little girl in Arya. Frightened because her family was threatened and because this time she couldn’t save them with her sword. Things were about to change again and in fact, none of them could do anything to prevent it. Hopeless. 

Sansa had sat down upon realising where Bran’s story was headed and now lifted her head from her hands. “Why would they lie? Bran has yet to tell us anything but the truth. And he did bend the knee, he wrote so in his last letter”, she scowled. And it did make perfect sense. The way their father had treated him and shot down any mention of his mother had it barely arisen. She didn’t want it to be true either. In theory. Because her heart was beating faster. With fear yes, but also with a delicate hope. The foolish girl inside her wasn’t all dead yet. And in any other situation she would have revelled in that hope. Not now, though. She simply couldn’t afford it. 

“Maybe she threatened to burn him, too, if he didn’t bend the knee!” Sansa saw Sam wince.   
Bran didn’t show any emotion. “She didn’t. She had already promised him to join the fight when he gave her the North.” 

Stupid. How could he be so stupid?

Arya looked at Bran, pleading and like she was about to cry. “Please tell me you’re lying!” Bran was quiet. Sam seemed to try really hard to make himself invisible. Sansa sighed.   
“So this means he is a Targaryen. And he gave the north to his aunt. The northern Lords won’t accept that.” The truth hurt. After everything they had gone through to secure his place as their king, this was the final straw. She couldn’t fix this. “They will see him as a traitor. They’ll want his head. But he is Jon. Traitor or not, he is still our family, Lyanna’s son, our cousin and a true Stark. He might not have the name, but he has the blood.” If she only knew how. No one can protect anyone. Arya was looking at her. 

“You should take it”, her sister said quietly. 

“Take what?” 

“The throne. I can’t believe Jon betrayed us. I can’t believe he’s not our brother. But he did. And he isn’t. So you should take it.” Her voice was monotone with defeat. 

Sansa bit her lip. If Arya felt defeated, betrayed, there was no question in how the Lords would react. The fight for power couldn’t matter less, not with the Night King and his armies drawing closer every day.   
Their people needed something to fight for. A north ruled again by a southron ruler, a Targaryen none the less, was not something people would give their life to protect. They were too stubborn. 

“We have to protect our people, too”, she said quietly. “They are scared. From fear comes hatred. We can’t afford for the north to be divided again.”

“So take it!” 

“My Lady”, Sam said, “your sister is right. Now is not the time for blind loyalty. Jon is my friend and he is a good leader, maybe him bending the knee could even have worked out. Considering his heritage, though, it is too likely to be a fatal mistake, if you don’t do anything to counter it.”

Sansa stood and walked towards the window. Outside, the storm was raging. The war would cost them, especially with all the southern soldiers who weren’t used to this weather. They needed the best standing they could get, before it was upon them.

“We cannot tell them about his heritage before we have talked to him about it”, she said. Finality in his voice. “We will tell them he bent the knee. And if they offer me the crown again, I will take it.” She turned back towards her siblings. Towards Sam, Jon’s friend.   
“Targaryen blood or not, he will always also be a Stark. We have to look after him.” Her gaze locked with Arya’s her sister nodded, expression somber. Then it fell upon Ghost. He was looking back at her with his red eyes, calmly. It was decided. 

 

**********

 

That night found her in the Great Hall, standing before the bannermen, Bran and Arya to her left, Ghost before her, Sam to her right, already acting as her Hand. For now. His family seated close to him, but at another table. As was proper. No one questioned him being by her side. Sansa took a deep breath before speaking. 

“My Lords, a raven arrived at Winterfell, bearing word from our King. He is on his way north, bringing the armies and dragons of the Dragon Queen as well as Queen Cersei’s men to help us in the fight against the Army of the Dead.” Some men cheered, some showed scepticism.   
Lord Royce rose. “My Lady how do we know they aren’t coming to take the North while we are preoccupied with fighting the dead?”

“A valid concern, my Lord, but I was assured that Queen Cersei has granted the North its independence. Her war is with the Dragon Queen, not with us. But even that is secondary as it was unanimously decided to halt any war between the rulers of Westeros for as long as the Night King and his army prevail. We shall all stand united in the fight of life against death.”   
She took another deep breath, stealing herself. Lord Royce had sat down as she talked, satisfied by her answer, though she was sure he would be on his feet again in an instant following her next words.  
“I was however also informed that my brother, our King, has bent the knee to Daenerys Targaryen.” Sure enough, the Great Hall descended into frenzy. Several Lords had arisen, shouting over each other. Ghost had jumped up, too, making sure no one was getting too close to his pack in their anger. From the corner of her ee she could see the tension in Arya’s shoulders.

Traitor, dragon lover, foreign whore, Targaryen bitch, were just those slurs her ears could distinct in the swell of voices the most. Sansa held her head high, watching the Lords mildly until the voices died down. 

Eventually, Lord Glover stepped forward. “With all due respect, my Lady, you have come to your brother’s defence before, when we doubted his rule over the north after abandoning his people. You have to see we cannot accept this. The Targaryen’s have been our enemies for decades and by all accounts the Dragon Queen is as mad as her ancestors. I will not be ruled by a southron invader again!” The other Lords voiced their approval. 

‘I might not have made myself clear enough”, Lyanna Mormont spoke up, “but when I said I knew no king but the King in the North whose name is Stark I also meant I would know no queen but the Queen in the North whose name is Stark, if by marriage or by blood! The Dragon Queen could not be further from being a Stark. If Jon Snow does not want to be our king, we have to choose someone else to rule us, but that will not be the Dragon Queen!”

“Lady Stark”, Lord Manderly redirected the Lords’ attention back to her, “We have chosen your brother to rule us in hopes of him achieving what your other brother could not. Now he has foolishly given away what the Young Wolf died for. What was not even his birth right to begin with. Maybe we can now right the wrong by choosing another true born leader, one who would not betray us.”, he paused, then, his voice roaring, “The truthful Queen in the North! The Red Wolf!” He drew his sword, the other Lords following suit. Calls of her newly appointed title echoing through the hall. 

Ghost looked at her before lying back down. 

They had known that upon news of Jon’s bending the knee, the Lords would likely make her their new queen. Abstractly. Sansa had not expected to be given the same enthusiastic treatment Jon had been given. Her heart was beating violently in her chest. She turned her head to look at her siblings. Bran stoically stared at the scene before him, like was his custom these days. No way to know, what exactly he was seeing. But Arya was openly smiling at her. “I barely got used to “My Lady” and now it’s already “my queen”.” Sansa couldn’t help but smile back. The support of her sister brought her more joy than the treatment of the Lords ever could. She turned back towards the room, schooling her features into pleasant neutrality. 

“You are all very kind, my Lords.”, she repeated her words from just fortnights ago, “Under these new circumstances I accept your decision. And I promise you, I will fight for the North, be it against dead men walking or foreign invaders, until I take my last breath. This is our home and we will fight for it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I actually just wanted to see the North be fucking pissed at Jon for bending the knee to Dany and there weren't nearly enough fics with that content around to satisfy me yet.  
> This didn't actually go the way I planned, but to get good reactions of everyone involved when Jon comes back to Winterfell with Dany in toe, I have to lay a solid foundation first. And I don't believe in doing anything half-assed, so bear with me. I have another 2k already written without us being even close to reunion time yet. This might become a monster, good thing it's gonna be quite some time before the basis of this pic becomes outdated. 
> 
> So, what did you think? Any comments are greatly appreciated and if my wording is somehow off, lmk, English isn't my native language and I definitely won't take offence.  
> See you soon for the next chapter!


	2. a sword for the queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Kings of Winter were depicted with direwoles at their feet and swords across their laps. 
> 
> Lady has been dead for years and she can't even wield her own sword.
> 
>  
> 
> `The dragon?´, Arya gave Sansa and Sam a sceptic look, `Does everybody get dragons now?´

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy!

Sansa barely slept that night, tossing and turning in her furs. Ghost didn’t sleep either, simply lying next to her in bed, red eyes lazily watching her, ears perked attentively.   
Racing thoughts troubled her mind while she tried to do what she couldn’t before with the day’s events unfolding faster than she would have wished. After weeks of slow progress in preparing Winterfell for a war where they would have to provide food for more men than she could imagine it had been downright dizzying. 

It also meant that she was way less sure in her decisions than she would have liked. Doubt gnawed at her insides and she had to concentrate harder than usual to pick apart her becoming Queen in the North from every angle. Too many girlish what ifs wormed their way into her considerations. But what if Robb were here? What if she had gone to Dragonstone in Jon’s stead? The always underlying what if she had never left for Kings Landing? All those thoughts were stupid. Better not dwell on past mistakes. The opportunities entailing a changed past were gone forever. She had to keep her head now. Shut out those childish whispers. With another sigh, she turned back towards the window, now securely shut against the winter storm. 

She was sure that giving in to the Lord’s bid for her take the crown was the easiest way to keep the North stable. 

They would never have kept following Jon as their king once they found out about his parents. His parents. It still felt like a joke. And in a way, it was. Another cruel joke the gods had played on them. 

She couldn’t help but dwell on how cruel it might actually be. Littlefingers voice resounding in her head. He is young and unmarried. She is young and unmarried. And beautiful. Sansa gnashed her teeth. If would be fitting for him to be in love with the Dragon Queen, another voice inside of her insisted. After all he had been through, after all they had been through. The thought hurt her more than anything. 

And on top of that she had taken his crown. Even if he hadn’t wanted in the first place, it still felt like a betrayal. It didn’t matter that he had betrayed them first, he likely didn’t see his actions as such. They still didn’t even know his reasons. Finally, that was what wormed her the most. Sure, Bran insisted that he hadn’t had to bend the knee for Daenerys to fight with them. She just couldn’t see another possible reason as to why he would do it. And she definitely didn’t think he had betrayed them knowingly and without reason. 

No matter what, their taking the crown from Daenerys was smart. It just wasn’t very honorable. It would still estrange Jon, not even depending on his reaction to the news. Not after he had declared for Daenerys as his queen in front of Cersei. Of all the stupid things he had done. Of all the stupid things he could have done, this was the one she couldn’t even begin to rationalise with clever reasons. 

Not if Daenerys wasn’t as mad as her family, that was. The wild card that could cost them all their heads upon her arrival. Sansa didn’t particularly trust Jon’s assessment of the southern queen’s sanity and Bran had not been an helpful judge to determine that with finality either, but she did trust Tyrion. Shae’s death couldn’t have broken him as much as to him supporting the Mad King’s daughter if she was indeed as mad as her father. Not after he had witnessed the consequences of power in the hands of not only the Mad King himself but also his own nephew. No, Tyrion as Daenerys’ hand was her strongest indication it wasn’t the queen’s madness that drove Jon to taunting Cersei. 

She let out a frustrated huff. 

Taunting Cersei was indeed the cherry on top of him doing all the things she had warned him not to do. Even more stupid than catching a wight to make her fight alongside them. 

Jon was sure they had succeeded in convincing her. Sansa didn’t believe that. Assuming Cersei had actually sent her armies north, which she highly doubted, there was another plan at play. Another angle she had yet to revisit. And consult Bran about. 

But even if Daenerys was sane, which she was led to believe was at least possible, if just because she now knew that Jon was a Targaryen and he was one of the sanest people in Westeros, she nevertheless didn’t know how the queen would react to her. 

The roadblock she hadn’t expected in controlling the North. At worst, she would burn them all upon arrival. Like she had Sam’s family. 

She doubted that, too. Jon would not let that happen, Tyrion wouldn’t. It would be a clumsy move to throw the North into chaos when the real enemy was so close. 

No, she was banking on the Dragon Queen composing herself as long as the Night King was a threat to the whole of Westeros. And during the great war she’d have time. 

The real political players on the field wouldn’t go to battle. They would stay behind at Winterfell. As would she. 

 

**********

 

She got up earlier than usual, though sure she would not find any more rest that night, so when she made her way to the battlements, she startled. 

Across the courtyard, Arya was talking to Bran while pushing him towards the Godswood. She stood, watching them disappear from view, before she climbed up to resume her usual post. 

It didn’t take long for Arya to join her. “How did you sleep?”, her sister asked, weary. 

“I’ve had better nights”, she answered, looking straight ahead, “but also worse.” Arya nodded. 

“Me, too.”

“The children who arrived yesterday are ready to start training today. Those too young to fight are on sewing duty, practicing their stitches on woolen undershirts for the fighters.”

“You’re not asking me to join them.” 

Sansa snorted. “Obviously not. I’m asking you to oversee the training. Not just the children. The guards, too.”

“They do need it”, Arya muttered. Sansa turned to look at her sister. 

“Arya. I am Queen now. You should be my Sword.” 

Arya frowned, averting her gaze from the snowy fields before her. “What does that mean?” 

“After we executed Littlefinger you said you knew you would never be as good a lady as me, so you had to become something else. The old stories speak of the Kings of Winter with direwolves at their feet and iron swords across their laps. Winter has come again and I am the Queen in the North, the Queen of Winter. Lady is dead and I cannot wield my own sword. But the North needs the Queen’s sword. And that should be you.”

“That isn’t done”, Arya scoffed, but Sansa could see a rawness in her eyes. She wanted this. 

“Well, it wasn’t. But there were a lot of things that weren’t done that we did anyway”, she trailed off, “ We will name you the Sword of the Queen tonight in front of the bannermen”, she kept her voice light, knowing how much that meant to her sister. They didn’t know each other fully yet, but they were trying. And even though Arya had become harder in the last few years, she still yearned for things similar to what she had yearned for as a girl. As did Sansa. 

“The Sword of the Queen”, Arya repeated quietly.

 

**********

 

After breaking her fast with Arya, she sent her to the training yard and went back to the Lord’s chambers. Since Arya’s arrival at home she had worked every free minute on perfecting direwolf armor for her sister. 

It was lighter than normal armor and fitted for the body of a woman rather than a man. She had been careful to have it made in a way that would give Arya enough room to move, not restraining her and take away her advantage of being faster than her opponents. Afterwards she had taken care of it being warm enough for the harsher weather.

She took it out now and ordered Jeyne to put it in Arya’s chambers together with a message.

 

It had been a day since she was named Queen in the North. Now the Lords were sitting on either side of the Great Hall, waiting for her to start her address. But she was waiting, Bran again to her left, Sam to her right, Ghost before her. 

The door opened and Arya entered the room. Face void of any emotion, she walked towards the front of the hall. Murmur arose within the Lords at the sight of her white and grey armor. When she came to stand, Sansa rose and the sound drained from the room. 

“Winter is upon us”, she addressed the Lords, “I am Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell, Queen in the North, the Red Wolf”, The Lords cheered. She waited for them to calm. “I rule the North, I pass the sentence but I cannot swing the sword! With enemies to the north and the south the North cannot do without a sword. Arya Stark is the most skilled fighter in the North. Thus I appoint her as my Sword, the Sword of the Queen.” It was dead silent in the hall, the Lords holding their breath. Arya looked at her, unsheathed Needle with perfect stance, and sunk to her knees. 

“Arya Stark of Winterfell, do you pledge yourself to the North? Do you swear to honor the sentence? To protect the North with your life and die for it if need be?”

“I, Arya Stark of Winterfell, pledge myself to the North. I swear to honor the sentence, to protect the North and its Queen with my life and die for it if need be”, her voice rang through the hall, clear and determined. It didn’t escape Sansa’s notice that she had changed the wording. 

“We accept your service. You may rise.” As Arya rose, some of the Lords cheered. As she stood, others joined in. They had already seen her as Sansa’s sword before. When she executed Littlefinger, she had earned their respect as well as in some cases fear.

 

**********

 

It was a fortnight later, another fortnight before Jon and Daenerys were expected to arrive at Winterfell according to Bran, that she was awoken by her handmaiden Jeyne in the dead of night. 

Her fire was still stacked high and she supposed no one had restacked it since she had gone to sleep. Ghost growled deeply at the girl, but quietened once Sansa worked her fingers into his fur. Something was wrong. Jeyne’s hair in an unorderly braid, she was only wearing a hastily thrown on dressing gown. “What happened?” 

“Your brother needs to speak with you, your Grace. He says the wall has fallen and there are refugees on the way.” 

And so it begun. 

“Tell them to wake my sister and Samwell Tarly, then help me get dressed”, she decided. It was a good few hours before she would normally get up, but she had work to do. She only washed herself fleetingly while Jeyne went to inform other serving maidens and fetch her a dress. When moments later the maiden approached her dress in hand she looked up. “No.” She frowned. Jeyne was holding a dress adorned with feathers, something she had not worn, since the day they had executed Littlefinger. “Feathers won’t do. Get one with direwolves.” 

The wall had fallen. After everyone and their mother had assured her it would stand. Except for Jon. They were all foolish. Sansa wasn’t surprised. 

It didn’t take long for her to become presentable, spurring Jeyne on to work faster every step of the way. Ahead. She had to get ahead. When she got up from the chair in front of her looking glass, Ghost got up, too, and jumped down from the bed. “Thank you, Jeyne. When you have flushed the bed, you may go back to sleep yourself. I won’t need you again before dawn.” She gifted the girl a smile. Jeyne did good work and she was a northern girl. The respect she gave her was enough to keep her loyal. That’s why she had chosen her. The only girl she was sure wouldn’t fall for Littlefinger’s schemes. She had not disappointed. 

When Sansa left her chambers, the castle was still under the blanketing quiet of the early hour. In Bran’s rooms, Arya and Sam were already awaiting her. 

“The dragon has destroyed the wall”, Bran said as the door clicked shut behind her. 

“The dragon?”, Arya gave Sansa and Sam a sceptic look, “Does everybody get dragons now?” Sansa turned to Sam. Even for the biting tone in her sister’s voice that was a question she wanted answered, too. When he just shrugged his shoulders, she let her gaze wander further. To Bran, who again didn’t seem to be with them anymore. 

“Viserion. The Night King killed him, when Daenerys came to save Jon and the others. Now he is the one riding him. The men of the Night’s Watch will be on their way to Winterfell”, he explained, voice far away. It was still hard to get used to his state of being. Sansa stared at him. They had known of Daenerys saving Jon and his group, Bran had already told them. A dragon wight seems not to have been considered important information by Bran back then. 

“So we don’t just have an army of dead to deal with but also an undead dragon.” She said slowly and sat down in one of the chairs by the fire. “How fast can he travel by dragon?” Anxiety had clamped around her heart like a cold fist. 

They had counted on the wights being relatively slow. They had counted on having at least three more moons before the Army of the Dead would even get close to Winterfell. If the night king came by dragon before Jon and Daenerys arrived, then they didn’t stand a chance. 

“Fast”, Bran said, “but he won’t leave his army behind, it’s too big a risk. And he will sweep the villages further north before he comes to Winterfell.” That wasn’t in the least reassuring. Sansa got pack up, pacing. 

“I should send out men to ride north and give the order to evacuate. The villages and castles further North can’t hold back the Night King on their own, even less without valyrian steel. They will only make his army bigger.”, she turned on her heel, halting in front of the fire, “But evacuating them will also make his way south faster.” She dragged a hand over her face. “And we don’t know how long it will take the southern armies to travel the rest of the way in this weather. I can talk politics but I cannot strategize a battle plan. Without Jon and Brienne we don’t have anyone who can. I suppose our best chance is Lord Glover”, she turned around towards the serving girl that stood next to the door, seemingly lost and definitely frightened, but Sam stopped her. 

“You shouldn’t rush this, your grace. If you tell your bannermen the wall has fallen without having a plan in the darkest hours of the night, senseless chaos is the only likely outcome. Bran? Can you see anything that might help us? How long until Jon and Daenerys arrive? How long until their armies do? Who is coming?” 

Sansa’s face fell. The questions were more than valid. They should have asked them before, but she hadn’t thought of Bran being able to answer them, too caught up in everything else going on. Stupid. She made a mental note to stop underestimating Bran. Littlefinger had and it had been his downfall. She knew that. Why did she keep on doing it?

“Jon and Daenerys are on their way. As are her armies. And someone else is, too”, Bran had once said that most of the time the future was too flimsy to correctly predict and he kept his answers vague to not break the scale, whatever that meant. Sansa had asked him to tell her every possibility he saw and he had just looked at her, said it wouldn’t be wise. Most of the time, she didn’t have the patience to listen to him. Not like Sam did, not even like Arya did. 

“Who is someone else?”, Sam asked, voice calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya lovely people!  
> I was blown away by all the support for the first chapter and I feel kinda bad that we aren't yet meeting anyone new this chapter. Sorry!  
> But Arya got her own role in the North. I know I'm really reaching here, but I liked the idea of further empowerment and actual appreciation for Arya while strengthening the Stark family and through that the whole North.
> 
> Then next chapter someone new will arrive at Winterfell. I'm not sure how obvious I made who it will be and kinda curious, so feel free to take a guess in the comments. I did spend an unholy amount of time on figuring out who travels how long and from where, so be assured, the timeline of arrivals makes sense. Mostly. Probably.
> 
> Jon and entourage also get to Winterfell soon after (finally), probably chapter 4 or 5, depending on whether I'll put an Arya pov before. There will be a chapter from Arya's pov here and there as I really want to explore her relationship with Bran and get some solid Gendrya later on. So there's a solid chance her pov will be the last piece of setup in Winterfell before reunion time. 
> 
> Thanks for reading and have a great day! 
> 
> (Also as Christmas sweets start out in supermarkets today, winter is coming!)
> 
> /Lara out


	3. a lion within wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> `Do you remember?´, she’d asked that morning. `When King Robert came, I was wearing a helmet. Father took it from me before they were actually here. It would have made for a bad impression. You certainly would’ve been embarrassed.´

Bran looked up and met Sansa’s eyes. She startled. Emotion flashed across his face. He hadn’t looked at her since his return. Not as himself. She blinked and the moment was gone. Bran again replaced by the Three Eyed Raven. 

“Jaime Lannister has left his sister to honor the oath he swore our mother.” For another beat, they were silent. 

Then, Sansa resumed her pacing. She had thought of the possibility of Jaime leaving Cersei. Of course she had. It didn’t seem overly possible, Cersei and Jaime being the unit they were, which made it all the more desirable in her mind. With Jaime Cersei would have lost not just her lover. In the fight against her he could prove the biggest asset to hold. She had thought of winning him over as a clever plot for Daenerys to get iron throne. And so she wondered. Didn’t Tyrion, as the Dragon Queen’s Hand, see that? Was he blinded perhaps by being too close in mind still to his siblings? Or had he not thought Daenerys cunning enough to achieve such a feat? Which made her think back to Littlefinger’s talk of her supposed beauty. Surely a just and beautiful queen with silver hair and dragons could potentially break the spell Cersei had on her brother. And he probably wouldn’t even make a bad ally. Through all the terrible things he had done, Jaime had never been as cruel as his sister or his eldest son. The worst part of him had been the one that was loyal to Cersei and without that.. 

“What oath?”, Arya asked and brought her back to the situation at hand.

“To protect her daughters. You.” Sansa squinted, thinking back to the time after Jaime’s return from her family’s captivity and before her escape from King’s Landing. Looking for any small indication of him honoring such a vow. She came up empty.

“How come he has decided to be true to his word now? It has been years”, she couldn’t help but entertain the possibility that Bran was indeed wrong. That he had merely seen Jaime swear an oath to their mother years ago and now on his way to Winterfell. There could be dozens of other more likely reasons for him to travel. Jaime Lannister honoring a vow. Bran took his time to answer.

“He has before. He was the one who sent Brienne to find you. He refused Cersei when she wanted him to find you and bring you back to her.” Sansa clenched her teeth, thoughts rattling through her head gripping pieces of information from the bigger picture and shifting them, reordering them. Things that were, things that are, things that might be, all connected. The others were watching her.

It didn’t make sense for him to come all the way up north in winter on the brink of war just to finally kill her. No. Something occurred to her. 

“Bran”, she started, “Cersei didn’t send her troops, did she?” She had assumed Cersei wouldn’t. Nevertheless she didn’t know for certain. 

“No. Some of them are following Ser Jaime. Not many.” 

No, they wouldn’t. Why would they follow an oathbreaker north when their queen did provide for them? To fight an army of made up monsters nonetheless. She was surprised he had been able to convince any at all. 

Why? Why would Jaime Lannister ride north? He knew Tyrion was on his way to Winterfell. He might want to join his brother. It was said he had fallen in love. She counted the women around her and those he might know to come to help in the fight. She pondered if there was a woman he loved and who Tyrion could know he had feelings for. But she came up empty. Maybe he truly did just want to honor an oath that he could still uphold for once in his life. 

“Do you know for sure he left Cersei?” 

“He didn’t agree on keeping their army south. He was threatened with execution.” 

He would be an almost perfect solution for her current predicament. A battle commander by her side, someone who could give her advice on how to handle the men she had that might actually help. It didn’t even matter if he came to protect her and her sister or to fight alongside his brother. They weren’t on different sides in this war. His loyalty however, as flimsy as it probably would be, would be an asset in fighting Cersei once the great war was over. And if it were placed with her, she could later decide whose claim to the throne she would support. 

Sam went back to the library to copy instructions on how to make valyrian steal. He would start explaining the process to everyone they saw fit to man the smithy come morning. 

Arya decided to take some of their women fighters out to the train with them. When Sansa had argued it would be stupid to tire them out before the war had begun, Arya reasoned that they could sleep later. Now they should learn how to fight in the pitch dark. That argument she didn’t question. Her sister knew about fighting. Killing with unconventional methods. 

That left her behind with Bran. From his posture, she recognized he was still seeing. She couldn’t imagine. All the knowledge at his disposal. It must be so hard. No wonder he lost himself in the process. 

He looked so grown and yet so small, still tucked into his furs, leaning against the headrest to talk to them while upright. 

Every one of them had lived through hell since the days their parents and Robb had been killed. Yet the middle children of Ned and Catelyn Stark had all made it back to Winterfell after years of hardship, torture and survival. Despite Bran seeming to be gone most of the time, leaving just the shell of their brother, she knew he was still in there, buried under all he could see. They were all home. In times of White Walkers and giants and dragons it had to mean something. And even if it didn’t, she would not let another Stark fall. Not under her watch. She vowed that to herself. 

On his bed, Bran blinked. “You have a question.” 

“Yes.”, she affirmed, “What does Jaime Lannister want?” 

The room was quiet, save for the cackling flames in the fire place, for a long time. 

“The worst thing he ever did was throw a child out of the window to protect his sister and children.” She winced at the cold detachment in his voice. After all that happened it was easy to forget the crimes against her family from someone who hadn’t been a prominent threat to any one of them in the younger past. “The best thing was freeing Westeros of the Mad King.” 

She contemplated that. Robert’s Rebellion was too distorted in her mind to use it as a way to understand and determine anyone’s motivations. Too far from her own reality. It was a problem when most of her opponent’s motivations were deeply rooted in this particular time period. She only knew bits and pieces. 

But she had time until she would send their fastest riders further north to at least get everyone who couldn’t fight safely to Winterfell. She wanted them to be well rested to make the journey as fast and safe as they could. And Bran knew a lot more than her.

“Tell me about the Mad King.”, she prompted quietly. She still felt intrusive asking him to recount the secrets he was entrusted with to her. And she still felt surprise when he did so without any pause of consideration. Too used to people who protected all their secrets with their life. Just asking her brother seemed too easy. 

 

**********

 

She left when Bran’s maidens came to dress him for another day in the godswood. Her steps through the halls of Winterfell were sure and steady as she went to the crypts before she would meet Arya on the battlements to start their own respective days together. She had to think. 

 

**********

 

The winds around Winterfell had quietened the day Jaime Lannister eventually arrived at their gate. Sansa was awaiting him with Arya standing next to her. They had come from the godswood once Jaime had entered Wintertown. Making sure they indeed had all the information they needed to greet Cersei”s brother.

Now, said Lannister was slowing his horse as he drew up to them. Sansa held her back straight and head high. Her dress was of a deep grey and depicted a huge white direwolf curling around her side. Her cloak now clasped in the front with a gift from Lady Lyanna Mormont. The young Lady had given it to her only days ago with a somber face. A copper brooch resembling the old northern crown. “May it bring us all luck in the wars to come”, she had said. It would undoubtedly send the right message. Arya next to her was wearing part of her armor. 

“Do you remember?”, she’d asked that morning. “When King Robert came, I was wearing a helmet. Father took it from me before they were actually here. It would have made for a bad impression. You certainly would’ve been embarrassed.” She’d looked at Sansa then. “Now you’re making me wear armor to make the right impression.” Sansa had huffed out a smile. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?” 

Now, Sansa saw uncertainty in Ser Jaime’s stride after he’d let one of the stablehands take his horse. He didn’t know if he was welcome and their stance surely wasn’t reassuring. His armor didn’t gleam in the afternoon sun, the only sign he hadn’t even been traveling with a squire. 

Sansa had made sure her guards knew to mention her title to him before letting him pass through the gate. It was better if he knew exactly who he was talking to. She didn’t know what to expect from him. No matter how much Bran told her, his ultimate goal didn’t become clear to her.

Now stopping before her at last, he considered her. “Your men told me to call you your grace.” He was testing the waters. Sansa remained regal and didn’t break eye contact. 

“They spoke true, Ser Jaime. A lot has changed since we last met.” He was silent for a beat. His throat moved as he swallowed. Then, he surprised her by sinking smoothly to his knees. It wasn’t the move he would have guessed for him to take. Arya had, she could imagine the triumph on her sister’s face.

“Queen Sansa, I once vowed to your mother to protect her daughters. I have come to honor that vow. If you’ll have me.” 

“Get up, Ser Jaime”, she dismissed his gesture, “I’d rather not have you declare for me after you have stabbed your first king in the back and deserted your last Queen at the edge of an oncoming war.” Clearly startled, he lifted his gaze to her. 

“Your grace..”

“I told you to rise, Ser. Come, walk with us. Your horse will be well taken care of in our stables”, with that she turned and started for the godswood, Ghost at once next to her. 

“I wouldn’t let her wait”, Arya cautioned mockingly behind her. She heard rustling as he rose and hurried to catch up to her with long strides. Arya chuckled before following them, keeping a step behind Ghost. Jaime was silent. He hadn’t expected her to react the way she had. Had underestimated her abilities to play the game. Which in turn amazed her. He did know she had learned from his sister. 

“Tell me, Ser Jaime, why should I trust you to honor an oath after all these years? Why would I even consider trusting a man who is known for his lack of honor in the whole of the realm”, her voice didn’t show any emotion, her hands calmly clasped in front of her body.

“Your grace, I have made a great many mistakes in my life. But I don’t regret killing the Mad Kind. Nor do I regret leaving my sister. In fact, I have remained by her side for far too long. Still the oath to your mother is the only vow I never broke.” Sansa’s fingers tensed in Ghost’s fur.

She nodded, feigning contemplation. “And yet, I can’t say I recall you trying very hard to keep it either.” He wasn’t stupid enough to attempt to excuse himself for her observations. She stopped and turned towards him. “What made you finally leave her?” The curiosity she let bleed into her voice was genuine. All Bran knew, all conclusions she deemed possible, even a lie could tell her more if it was from his own lips. And she’d know if he was lying. He might not pay her sister any attention, but she was certain Arya was carefully watching his every twitch. 

“Your half-brother came to King’s Landing with Queen Daenerys, your grace. They bore proof of the White Walkers. Cersei promised her help.” He fidgeted barely noticeable under her cool gaze. One would have thought his sister had trained him better than that. “She lied. She plans to reestablish control over the South while Daenerys marches her armies north.” Arya gave a miniscule nod.

“Of course she did”, Sansa scoffed and resumed her walk. “I cannot believe any of you trusted her word on that”, she scolded. 

“Me neither, your grace”, he answered, frustration evident in his voice. 

“Very well then.” They turned and were now walking directly towards the heart tree. Jaime stopped short when he noticed who was sitting by that tree. Staring at her brother. Sansa wanted to huff in disbelief. Surely, he would have known they would confront him with Bran. She hadn’t pecked Jaime Lannister to be so utterly bad at the game. 

Another few steps ahead and she stopped. Turning back to him. Arya and Ghost mirroring her movements. She cocked her head. “Is something wrong my Lord?”, she inquired perfectly polite. Arya smirked. 

“Perhaps he just realized what it is that the old gods condemn the most”, Arya mused.

“No, I don’t think that to be it. He had a long time to get used to being shamed for slaying the King and laying with his sister. I think it’s our dear brother that spooked him.” 

Jaime’s jaw ticked, but he took an even breath. “I’m truly sorry.”, he forced out. 

“I hear you truly are, Ser Jaime. You’d rather he died from the fall”, she continued forward. Arya and Ghost stood still, waiting for the Kingslayer to follow her before shadowing him this time. 

Sansa stopped next to the tree, leaving for Jaime to stand next to her, Arya and Ghost flanking the other side of the tree. Bran blinked. 

“Ser Jaime”, he said, flat. The tone was a skill all the Starks had acquired, though used by every one differently. It made Jaime visibly squirm. 

“Lord Brandon”, he greeted back. 

“I am no Lord Ser Jaime. I am the Three Eyed Raven.” Ser Jaime’s face was priceless. Helpless, he turned to Sansa. 

“Bran”, she said, “what did you see?” 

“He offered to bed our mother.” That was unexpected. Arya’s mouth creased like she had eaten something very sour. 

Sansa tilted her head at Jaime. “That is new information”, she noted. 

Jaime rung for words. “I was their prisoner, I..”

“Ser Jaime”, Sansa appeased, “We don’t need an explanation. Just accept whatever he sees.”

“He sent Brienne to find and protect you. He gave her armor and a sword, but he isn’t sorry for pushing the boy from the tower. His son Tommen jumped to his death from a height.” 

“Do you ponder sometimes whether it was the Gods serving justice, Ser Jaime?”, Sansa asked. “Letting our brother live, but taking your son with a similar fall?” 

Jaime Lannister was undoubtedly disturbed. He looked back and forth between her and Bran, unease radiation off of him. Finally, he sighed. “I don’t believe in the Gods being just, your grace.”

“Barely anyone does these days”, Sansa affirmed. “Let’s go talk inside.”

 

**********

 

That same day, Ser Jaime proved to be a true blessing in talking through possible battle strategies against the Night King. He had joined the council formerly consisting of the Starks, Sam and Lord Royce and after the first meeting even Lord Royce agreed he was of great help. It had formerly irked the Lord Protector of the Vale that they were so strongly dependant not just on the army of the Dragon Queen, but also her council. Having Ser Jaime on their side slightly evened the power balances. 

The Lords had by now mostly realized the Night King was a true threat, still they put a lot of concern in the desire to stay independent from the southron rulers. 

At night, when the Great Hall was at its fullest and housed most of the banners, she pardoned him for his crimes against the North in exchange for his help against the White Walkers and no one objected.

 

**********

 

Sitting together in her chambers with her siblings and Sam had become another of their routine’s. She started the day with Arya and ended it with them all. Somehow, they all needed to be together as much as they could, but none of them wanted to admit it. So, in the mornings, Arya was the one to bring Bran to the godswood, needing the quiet to wake herself up. She and Sansa met to discuss the plans for the day and broke their fast together to show unity. Even when holding council meetings most days, the inner circle had to regroup once a night in the Lord’s chambers. 

She knew with her and Arya it was the wolf blood that made them cling together and to Bran after long years of separation. She suspected for Sam it was the need to feel like he belonged somewhere after failing to fit in both with the Night’s Watch and at the citadel. And they welcomed him with open arms. It did feel like he belonged with them. 

It was strange though, to be around his wife Gilly. She liked the girl well enough and during her rounds she often sat with her and little Sam for a while, before continuing on. 

But it was hard for her to keep up a conversation, with them not having much in common and leading such different kinds of life. 

That night, they were drinking wine in front of the fire, her and Sam sitting in the chairs, Arya at her feet on the floor, stroking Ghosts fur. They made Bran tall them stories now. Sansa had found it got easier for her to talk to him and for him to see things he was directly prompted to look for when they practised with pleasant things instead of using his gift for nothing but vital and mostly gruesome information. It was slow progress, but bit by bit they learned to work together and to rely on each other. Also, it was better for him to tell them the facts and them to judge the meaning behind them. He was terrible at reading people’s intentions.

Until today, they had been hearing lots of stories of the Lannisters since the revelation of Jaime coming to Winterfell, trying first to determine whether they could trust Jaime, then to simply learn as much as they could. It was in the little things. Jaime and Tyrion’s relationship they supposed still strong. Jaime’s to Cersei with the right prompting irreversibly broken. 

The more they heard the more it seemed the Lannisters weren’t so different from the Starks. 

Tonight, though, with Daenerys’ arrival at Winterfell fast approaching, they had shifted their focus onto the Targaryens. Daenerys and her brother Viserys had still been children at the time of Robert’s Rebellion. When Daenerys was of age, Viserys had given his sister as a bride to a Khal of the Dothraki in hopes of securing an army to win back the Iron Throne. Planning to marry her later himself. 

She had crossed his plans when she had ordered her husband to kill her own brother. 

“I’m not sure”, Sansa started, “If I find it more disturbing he wanted to marry his own sister or that she killed him for it.” 

“Weren’t you once supposed to marry our cousin Robyn?”, Arya asked, turning to look at her. 

“Yes, but Robyn is just our cousin, imagine they would have wanted me to marry Robb.” Arya winced. “There’s an immense difference.” 

“You’re right”, her sister shuddered, “and the high Houses are probably all somehow related anyway.”, she paused, “Also not even I would kill my own family.”

“How very generous of you”, Sansa rolled her eyes. But she felt a familiar surge of burning shame upon her sister’s words. She thought back to the moment she had genuinely thought Arya would kill her, before Arya had turned the knife and she had realised her sister had merely played her little mind game with her. When she had also realized it was time to rid themselves of Littlefinger. 

“Another storm is coming”, Sam pulled her from her thoughts, his eyes on the window. She followed his gaze. 

“The calm weather will be sparse and far between from now on.”, she answered, hoping Jon would just hurry up and get back already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of you were right, all of you deserve a cookie!  
> Well, it was pretty obvious, so there's that... We don't know how why what with Jaime's men yet, so that's gonna be a fun tidbit for later. 
> 
> I really loved writing the Starks making Jaime uncomfortable this chapter. It was the first time we actually saw a Stark power display and damn, did I have to stop myself from being over the top on innuendos. I certainly would not want to have them gang up on me like that, so I do feel kinda sorry for him. 
> 
> It's gonna be interesting to see them toying with the other new arrivals soon, since there will be so many more people around and they can't just deal with them one by one. Also they have different weapons to use against them. It's gonna be a riot. Especially once they start to take Little Bear along for the ride. I'm honestly dying to see her stare disdainful at Jorah no matter what he does. 
> 
> Obviously we'll have to balance the salt and angst with the army of the dead and such... it will definitely be interesting. 
> 
> Finally, I'm not too sure anymore of putting the Arya chapter first so it's either Jon and crew next chapter and Arya the one after or the other way around. It's 50/50, so be prepared for the surprise. 
> 
> Lots of hugs for all of you, those who are reading this, enjoying this, leave nice comments or just smile at least once more today than they would have without this chapter. You all make my day. 
> 
> /Lara out
> 
> PS. I just realized I didn't comment on that, but since I feel rather strongly about it... You probably noticed my jab at Starkbowl and the probably only major change of canon up to season 7 (if you count the cut scene). Everything else will maybe be twisted differently but not blatantly changed. But whatever happens, in this fic, Arya and Sansa have worked together since the faces scene. That is the law of my work now. We don't have any stupid ass antagonism here. Which makes a lot of sense in light of my Stark sister dynamic. Now I'm done. Have a nice day.


	4. can't you see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dragon Queen arrives at Winterfell. With emotions running high, how will the first greeting go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so incredibly sorry for the delay! I hope you'll like the chapter, the final calm before the storm.  
> Enjoy!

They grew more tense and restless with every day that passed. Ghost disappeared two days to Jon’s return, prompting Sansa to become even more anxious. The following morning, she stayed out on the battlements for longer than usual. Despite a roaring storm ripping at her cloak, she stared out onto the white grounds willing his red eyes to shatter the snowy canvas. When it was time to break their fast and she still refused to leave - just a little while longer - Arya had snapped at her.

“He can take care of himself! He probably went to greet Jon.” When Sansa didn’t answer, Arya stomped away, kicking at the snow. She knew that Arya was probably right. The worry for him wasn’t the reason for her anxiety. Rather that she had gotten so used to him, almost dependant on his quite reassurance, always by her side. A part of Jon that hadn’t left. She shook her head at that foolish thought.

It was Ser Jaime who came to fetch her when she was ultimately late for the council meeting. Snide remarks of her as an ice statue on the rampage being no good to anyone on his lips. She in turn put him in his place, reminding him of his still shaky position in the North. He had grown quite comfortable with them in the past days and Sansa still wasn’t sure what to make of it. Still, she went with him.

Then, at the meeting, she heard Arya had made one of the older girls cry and sprained the wrist of one of their guards in training. When she scolded her sister, Arya retorted it was their own fault for being shit fighters and not training hard enough. 

After that, she hadn’t even been sure Arya would show up at her chambers for the family meeting that night. When she did, she made sure to make everyone feel she’d rather not share her sister’s space. But the anxiety within her was clear as day. Sansa could relate. She wouldn’t see Jon for the first time after years, but she would see him for the first time after her betrayal. She felt sick upon just imagining a look of disappointment on his face. 

He brought this on himself, a voice inside her head reproached. He probably didn’t mean to, answered another. She had told him to be smarter than their father or brother. What else could she have done, when clearly, he just hadn’t listened? She heard the whispers. Another foreign whore that had brought down yet another northern king. And part of her couldn’t help but agree.

Sam huffed at the state of them staring solemnly ahead, interrupting Bran. Interrupting his admittedly not as distracting as significant recount of Daenerys meeting Tyrion Lannister for the first time. 

“Arya. Sansa”, it was one of their most treasured victories to have gotten Sam to stop using their proper titles, “no matter what takes place on the morrow, Jon will always be your brother. And he will understand why it was smart for you to take the northern crown. He loves you three more than anything.” 

“He isn’t even our brother”, Arya countered. Jaw locked, staring at Sam, her eyes hard. 

“That’s not true, Arya”, Sansa refuted tiredly, “Jon is Jon, he will always be your brother.” For a second she thought she saw Arya’s lip quiver, before her face went back to the emotionless mask that was so much like Bran’s typical expression these days. Plus the dangerous yet icy glint in her eyes. She shot up and made for the door, but Sansa had expected that move. Her hand locked around her sister’s wrist. She would not let her lock them out like that again. Arya, surely able to just shake her hand off, paused. 

“You’re so much like Lyanna”, Bran said. At once the air in the room shifted again. Sansa’s grip loosened, letting go altogether as Arya turned back to Bran, expression raw. 

“What?”

Sansa heard Sam breathe out a relieved sigh. But she only had eyes for her brother and sister. 

“She was wild. She never did what she ought to. She once even fought and won in a tourney.” Arya slumped back down. 

Sansa was sure they’d all thought about Lyanna in the past weeks. Lyanna and their uncle Brandon and how Father and Benjen had lost their siblings, too. However, they had never asked. The air felt thick now. Somehow, they all held both utter respect and unease towards the past. The memories weren’t theirs. Strangely enough, they still hurt like they were. In a dull, distant kind of way. Not like the sharp stab she always felt when thinking about her more recently lost family. 

Now, she leaned back as Bran recalled about Lyanna and Brandon sneaking out to practice sword fighting. 

And somehow, the dull ache of their family history lulled her in, calming her and repressing the terror she felt when thinking about Jon Snow hating her. 

 

**********

 

They didn’t await their guests in the yard like they normally would for visitors from a High House. Sansa hated that. She was sure at least some of the arriving party held a certain resentment towards her and would rather display flawless hospitality on the outside. But the winds were especially unforgiving today. Snow falling so heavily they had people shovelling it away without a stop. 

Strategically, it was a good day to receive guests that had yet to experience the reality of the unforgiving harshness their home was known for. Still, their nerves remained strung tight. The warmth and quiet of the Great Hall didn’t make for a good distraction from their worries.   
Sansa idly drummed her fingers against the armrest of her chair. Arya to the left of the table didn’t move at all, yet she was tense. All her muscles taut. Sansa didn’t doubt she could move across the room in the amount of time it would take herself to blink, if prompted. She felt for her sister. Knowing how much Arya just wanted to welcome Jon home. But also knowing she couldn’t. Not really. Until they had talked and discerned where everyone stood. 

Sam to her right was shaking his leg so hard his whole body trembled. He was the most obvious of their lot. “Sam.”, she said quietly, “Stop fidgeting. There’s nothing to be nervous about.” Which irony after him having been the one trying to calm them down just last night. Though that had been about family, this was politics. He took a deep breath, sent her a small rueful smile, but stopped. Even though he knew it was a lie. 

She had written to Jon, to Brienne, even to the Dragon Queen herself. Not one raven was returned. Bran had said they’d received them and the Dragon Queen had been livid, but later on the road they all seemed calm. Nonetheless they didn’t know how the greeting would go, had talked through all the best and worst-case scenarios, had talked different approaches for anything they thought of. But none of them knew the Dragon Queen well enough to judge what kind of mood she would appear in. 

None of them had even met her yet, except for Ser Jaime, who had watched her burn down his men and wagon upon wagon of food supplies that the people would miss painfully now winter was here. Arya had asked Bran about a certain group of Lannister men she had met on the road. He had been quiet for the rest of the meeting until he’d told her they’d all died in the first spurts of flame. It had not been one of their more pleasant council meetings. 

Lord Royce stood fiercely next to Arya. Just every so often Sansa caught him shifting from one foot to the other from the corner of her eye. She contemplated whether she rather should have put one of them next to Ser Jaime to the right. 

He had become cocky since his pardon, ever the arrogant Lannister. She had again reminded him that day, to better not talk for the first meeting with the new Targaryen conqueror. Even and especially if prompted by his brother. She couldn’t help but again note the humor, that a Lannister was part of her Small Council and wearing armor displaying a direwolf. 

Bran sat in his chair, seemingly impassive. 

“How long?”, she asked him. 

“They’re dismounting their horses.” She nodded and stilled her hand. Calming her features into the mask of ice. 

 

**********

 

When they filled into the Great Hall and Brienne and Podrick and also Sandor Clegane came forward at once, kneeling before the long table, Sansa let a small smile blossom on her face.

“Gendry?”, Arya’s surprised voice split the hall and interrupted their welcome. Curious and ready to scold her sister, Sansa turned but already another voice had answered her Arya’s call. 

“Milady.” Sansa watched as Arya propelled herself forward into one of the men’s arms. She saw hurt flash across Jon’s face, yet didn’t let her gaze linger on him for too long, instead moving on to the two figures still kneeling in front of her. Letting her sister have this. Whoever it was that prompted such a reaction in Arya automatically held her gratitude. They didn’t get many nice things anymore. 

“Lady Brienne, Ser Podrick, I am pleased to greet you back at Winterfell. And Ser Sandor, what a pleasant surprise to see you again. Please, rise.” They did as told and she gestured for them to join Jaime Lannister on the right side of her table. Another problem solved. 

That left seven people in the centre of the hall, not counting Arya and the boy, Gendry. Sansa wondered where Ghost had gone off to. 

She knew most of them. And she had known of all of their coming. Bran had not left anyone out in his repeated counts of the people traveling to Winterfell together with Jon. No one except for Gendry. She had to wonder if it was purpose. One could never really tell with Bran these days. 

Davos, of course, standing behind Jon looking at Arya and Gendry with clear confusion on his face. Jon, who had quite apparently no idea what to do and seemed like he’d rather be anywhere else right now. 

Tyrion clearly startled upon seeing his brother, not to mention in Stark armor and being one of the few people even allowed in the hall. The spider was looking back and forth between her and his companions, expectantly. She didn’t know what he expected. Or even from whom.

Then there was the traitor, Jorah Mormont. She had almost made Lyanna Mormont part of the welcoming party, just to see the Lady stare disdainfully at her kin. But that had to wait for later. 

At last the women she didn’t know, Daenerys’ advisor Missandei, just stepping forward and the Dragon Queen herself, both not dressed for the harsh weather and clearly not in a light mood. 

Daenerys Targaryen was staring at her, challenge in her eyes. 

She was glad Arya had seen the advisor move, too, and was back at her place without further prompting. The boy Gendry still looked rather struck. When he averted his eyes from her sister and met her gaze, he startled further, only put out of his misery by the Dragon Queen’s slave speaking up. 

Finally, Sansa’s attention fixed upon the woman once more, her own even features showing no emotion. 

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful queen of the Andals and the First Men, protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains.”

A beat. “Excuse me, your grace, for missing my manners. We weren’t informed of this foreign custom to introduce ourselves with all our claimed titles. Or, Ser Jaime”, she turned to the knight, “Did this become custom in King’s Landing since my departure? It has been a while.”

“No, your grace. Not that I know of”, he answered. Humming, Sansa shifted her focus back to the Dragon Queen. The woman appeared to be seething, her face barely contorted to appear calm. Next to her, Sam’s leg began to bounce again. She wanted to slap him. 

“Nevertheless, as the Queen in the North I welcome you to Winterfell. And I thank you for joining us in the fight against the White Walkers.” She had made her move, smoothly. Now it was Daenerys’ turn. She willed herself not to look at Jon while waiting. Not yet. Keeping her gaze fixed upon his chosen Queen. 

“You realize of course, Lady Stark, that you have committed treason by claiming the northern crown when it was your brother who rightfully bore it?” So was it also treason when she claimed the Iron Throne while it was Jon’s by birth right? Sansa made the mistake of looking at him then. Hurt and confusion but also unease displayed on his face, readable like an open book. He frowned at Sam and she quickly diverted her gaze again, before he could catch her and meet her eye.

She remembered all the times another southern ruler had called a Stark traitor.   
Her council had not missed the mishap of Daenerys addressing her by the wrong title nor the threat behind her usage of the word treason. Jaime Lannister and Yohn Royce had their hands upon their swords. It was counter threat enough for now. 

“Your grace, I apologize if I’m wrong, but we were informed our King had abdicated his crown by his own choice. Am I mistaken?” 

“He didn’t abdicate. He bent the knee, as your ancestors before him.” Sansa was fairly surprised by the contained rage in Daenerys Targaryen’s voice. It was an undercurrent she had heard in voices before. Another reminder of a past rule. 

“Some people might call that treason in its own right, your grace. As you might also know, my other brother gave his life for the northern independence. Therefor I would rather we keep calling it abdication. But enough of that. I am assured it is in our all best interest to let the Game of Thrones rest as long as there is a far larger threat marching south as we speak. Don’t you agree?” 

It was quiet for a long time. She held Daenerys’ gaze. Fiery anger meeting icy calm. 

“Fine, my Lady. We shall revisit this topic when the Great War is over”, the Dragon Queen finally backed down. Sansa nodded.

“Very well. I had the guest house prepared for you. My sister Arya will show you to it. You should eat and take time to rest. We should confer with both our councils as soon as possible. There are many things to discuss.” 

“Thank you, your grace”, Tyrion answered her. 

Arya walked past them towards the door, not sparing Jon another glance. When Daenerys and her people followed Tyrion not without a lingering glance at her, Jon stayed put in the middle of the room. She felt her face soften, just a bit. 

She rose. “Jon, we would like to speak with you in private”, she said softly. 

He nodded. “I guess we should.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be longer, I promise. Also it's gonna be the Arya pov and we will get to the real drama and shenanigans, so be prepared.  
> And it won't take as long. I just had such a hard time getting the first meeting - with this shit ton of characters - right, so I hope I achieved that. It couldn't get too dramatic and they did all have some time to prepare and overthink their standpoints (or Tyrion slapping some `Don't you dare fry the Starks´sense into Dany). We will get a lot of backhanded saltiness in the next few chapters, also some outbursts when we get smaller groups colliding.  
> As always, I hope you are all still with me and enjoy the story as much as I do.  
> I love you all and I do start bawling at some of the nice comments you guys keep writing, so thank you so much for the incredible support! 
> 
> /Lara out


	5. story of a lonely girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> `He’s the true heir to the Iron Throne.´ Arya retorted, looking between her siblings. Sansa snorted. 
> 
> `Yes, because for all we know Daenerys will just step down and give it to him.´
> 
> `She’s my aunt´, Jon whispered, commanding their attention once again.
> 
> `Do not worry, Jon. It has been common for Targaryens to interbreed for centuries´, Bran said. Jon looked horrified. Sansa groaned and Arya truly felt with her sister in that moment. They had told Bran not to blurt out additional information. He had the tendency to say the weirdest things if you left him to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the great comments! I really wanted to answer them all (like I always do, but last chapter they were just too many and I don't have time for anything at the moment, so I'm really sorry I couldn't. I'll try to get back to it, but I can't make any promises right now. Just be assured that every comment makes my day and I love you all to bits for leaving feedback!
> 
> Some of you complained last chapter was too short, this is the longest by a few words as of yet, so there you go! I Hope you enjoy the first Arya chapter! ❤

Arya quickly made her way through the snowy yard to Sansa’s chambers where she had agreed to meet the rest of her family to talk to Jon. Her heart was hammering in her chest like it hadn’t in a long time. She didn’t know him anymore. And no matter what Sansa and Sam said, what if he had indeed chosen his aunt over them? Targaryen over Stark? What if she’d lost yet another brother? 

She didn’t sleep, feeling as if the grip on herself that seemed to be faltering even when she was awake, would slip once she let her guard down. 

I am Arya Stark of Winterfell. I am with my brother and my sister. I am home. It was stupid of course. After she couldn’t rid herself of herself why would she lose it now?

Still, she felt like seeing Gendry had given her another part of herself back. Something more she could hold on to. When her family had changed so much. 

Her hands traced over needle’s handle. He had looked so different next to the Dragon Queen, but still so much like Jon she had felt like she would crumble once she shifted her gaze from Gendry for too long. 

Sometimes, when it was dark and cold and she felt at the same time the most and least like a wolf of Winterfell, she started walking the corridors, haunted by the ghosts of the past. More often than not in nights like those she paced between the doors of her siblings’ chambers before entering Bran’s. Always finding him awake and awaiting her. It was then that she heard the stories that weren’t for Sansa’s ears. The gory deaths of friends and loved ones. Things Sansa didn’t need to hear when she already balanced the whole North on her shoulders. Things Sansa wouldn’t want either of them to talk about. 

Upon her arrival at Winterfell, after the initial relief of being home had worn off, she had resented her sister for all she had and had not become. It was Bran who had helped her see the suffering her sister had gone through in their very home. Sansa didn’t know, of course. Didn’t let anyone see her scars. Still the perfect Lady she had always wanted to be. The day they had fought about Sansa occupying their parents’ chambers, Bran had told her what had happened in Sansa’s old ones. Afterwards, she wished she could have been able to see her sister feed Ramsey Bolton to the hounds. 

The first time she had actually seen the ice running through Sansa’s veins same as her, had actually seen her sister be the Red Wolf she had then only been described as in whispers, was when she sentenced Littlefinger to death. It had taken months, but in these past weeks she for the first time felt like she belonged with both Bran and Sansa. And she thought that maybe their pain, their suffering, their changing had been for a reason. The lone wolf dies… She couldn’t lose them, not again. Not when Jon might not even be Jon anymore. Jon is Jon. Was he? 

Arya turned the corner and was suddenly almost barrelled over. 

“Seven Hells, Ghost!”, she exclaimed, the direwolf all wet fur and nervous energy before her. Was he whacking his tail?! The wolf just nudged her and snapped at her clothes, urging her on. “Yes, gods, I’m coming.” The closer she got to Sansa’s chambers, the calmer he got. She wondered what had had him all up in arms until she stepped into the family chambers’ corridor and saw Jon leaning against the wall, alone. He was playing with the seam of his tunic, but looked up as he heard or probably more sensed them approach. Arya stopped, weary, as he greeted ghost. 

Then he looked up at her. His jaw set, he swallowed audibly. “Arya”, he rasped, opening his arms, begging in his eyes. Arya breathed in in a sharp ghasp. She didn’t decide to move, but suddenly she was barrelling into his arms. He caught and lifted her, like he had when she was a child. Now, though, his arms held her so tightly she could barely breathe. Still, it rather felt like after a long time she could finally breathe again.

“Sansa said you probably wouldn’t want any witnesses around.” Arya choked on a laugh, holding onto him for dear life. 

“You still have needle, I see. Brienne told me you could easily fight ten grown men with it. I’m so proud of you, Arya. I’m so glad you’re alive”, he murmured into her hair.

She ground her teeth together, letting go of him and stepping back. He reluctantly let her go, mustering her. 

“You’re wearing direwolves”, she said. He cocked his head. 

“Of course I am, Arya. I’m still a northerner.” She felt something in herself close up. 

“You gave our home to a Targaryen.”, she snapped. He let out a long sigh, dragging his hand over his face and looking away. 

“I think we got to the part in the conversation your sister wants to yell at me about, too. Shall we go in?” She didn’t answer, just walked past him and entered Sansa’s solar. Bran and Sam were already settled by the fire. Sansa standing by the window. She saw the ice in Sansa again. In the tenseness around her spine. The door behind her fell closed. For the first time, it felt like the storm had gotten inside the castle. Ripping on their insides instead of their clothes. For the first time in ages, Arya shivered. 

“Sansa”, Jon pleaded and she startled. She knew they’d grown close in the time they spent together. But hearing it and seeing it were still so vastly different. Sansa didn’t turn. Ghost padded toward her, pushing at her hip. She jumped. Then her shoulders fell relaxed and she kneeled, hugging the wolf close. Arya thought back to the last morning, Sansa refusing to stop looking for him and with a glance at the raw look on Jon’s face, she realised. Not only did Sansa still trust Jon enough to let go of her composure. No, even with it being her sister who now sat on his throne, Sansa was still closer to Jon than she herself these days. And where Sansa softened, Arya tensed. 

“Jon”, Sam said, gesturing to the chair across from him and Bran. “You should sit down.” 

“I already know about the wall. We got your ravens”, Jon frowned. Sam opened his mouth. 

“Oh you did, didn’t you? That’s a relief, but how could we tell? They all remained unanswered.” Sansa, still crouching next to Ghost, stated. It didn’t do anything to negate the ice in her eyes, her voice, her posture. Arya marvelled at the power her sister had over people without even getting close to touching them. At the power of changing her face so completely within seconds. Without ever putting an entirely new one on. 

“What could I have said? I’m but a mere bastard again, am I not?”, he scoffed. Sansa made to answer, but Sam chimed in, alarmed. 

“Jon, sit”, he commanded, “Sansa, you should know exchanging accusations won’t help anyone. We have more important things to discuss.” Jon sat while Sansa rocked back on her feet. Strangely a memory of Mother and Father came to her then. She didn’t know what they’d argued about, but they stood down like this, too, the moment they’d spotted her in the corner. 

Sam threw her a glance and she made to sit, too, in her usual spot next to Sansa’s, now Jon’s, chair. She wasn’t surprised Sansa didn’t come to sit with them in the free chair. She was, however, surprised by her sister settling against the wall on the other side of the room, Ghost still next to her. She didn’t think she had ever seen Sansa sit on the floor. 

“Jon”, Sam said slowly and paused for a long time, unsure of how to proceed, “You’re not a bastard. You’re not Eddard Stark’s son.” He took a deep breath. Jon was staring at him, confused betrayal etched deep into the lines of his face. Then turned to look at each of them. 

“What did I do to you? What did I do for you to take everything from me?” He pointedly glared at Ghost. Arya winced like he’d slapped her.

“Do you really think we would make this up just to hurt you? Gods Jon, listen to Sam” The way he looked at Sansa made Arya’s skin crawl. But Sansa just stared back, all her emotions locked away, out of sight from everyone, probably even herself. 

“Jon, you’re Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen’s trueborn son”, Sam said softly. 

“He didn’t kidnap her, Jon”, Sansa added for clarification when Sam didn’t, “They loved each other. They ran away. They married. And then Rhaegar was killed at the Trident and Lyanna died after giving birth. And Father raised you like his own son to protect you from Robert.” 

Jon looked at her like every fight had left him. He suddenly appeared much older and much younger all at once. Searching their faces again, one after the other, trying to detect any trace of a lie in them. 

“Bran saw it.”, Sam explained, “But there’s also records from the Citadel. We have proof.” 

“You’re still a Stark. You’re still Jon.” It was Sansa who had insisted to keep his true name from him until he’d adjusted. Who had insisted it didn’t matter. “We don’t even have to tell anyone.”

“He’s the true heir to the Iron Throne.” Arya retorted, looking between her siblings. Sansa snorted. 

“Yes, because for all we know Daenerys will just step down and give it to him.”

“She’s my aunt”, Jon whispered, commanding their attention once again.

“Do not worry, Jon. It has been common for Targaryens to interbreed for centuries”, Bran said. Jon looked horrified. Sansa groaned and Arya truly felt with her sister in that moment. They had told Bran not to blurt out additional information. He had the tendency to say the weirdest things if you left him to it.

“I don’t think that was his main concern right now, Bran” Sansa scolded and nudged Ghost. He turned his head to look at her before rising and going to settle against Jon instead. 

Then, it was quiet. The storm now again untraceable on the inside, they gave Jon time to process. 

“We can’t keep this quiet.”, he finally said, voice grave. 

“What do you want to do? Stand in front of the Great Hall and tell the Northern Lords you’ve been a secret Targaryen all along? Because you would also have to tell them Robert’s Rebellion was a lie. And they would neither want to hear that nor believe it. Many people died for this Jon.” Sansa slowly got up. Jon’s face a grimace. 

“That’s why you took the crown.” He looked up at her. “Isn’t it?”

“Partly, yes. Whatever you decide to do, the North will not stand divided.” Arya wondered, was this how it had been? Before, when they rallied the bannermen? When they retook the North? Only for Jon to give it away. After all that the South had done to their family. 

“You should bend the knee in my stead, too, then.” He sounded so tired but that didn’t stop Arya from jumping up, furious. Still it was Sansa who spoke first, putting a calming hand on Arya’s shoulder. 

“I will not give the North to another southerner!”, she bit out, “After all our parents died for, our brothers died for, we suffered for, I will not ever give up our home, Jon. Never again.” 

“She’s not her father, Sansa! She’s not Joffrey or Cersei, she’s a good queen!”

“Who burns weeks of corn supplies just before the winter. Who burns people who refuse to betray their current queen.”

“She burnt Cersei’s men because they’re at war! That’s what war is about!” Sansa just stared at him. 

“Where is the man who wouldn’t do anything to punish the Karstarks and Umbers for siding with the Boltons?”

“That’s different. They’re with us now.” 

“So you would approve of her burning Lyanna Mormont alive when she refuses to bend the knee to her because she’s loyal to me?”

“Sansa you’re twisting things! The Lannisters killed House Tyrell, they destroyed Asha Greyjoy’s whole fleet and took Daenerys’ allies prisoner. And that’s what they did to her. You should be the last person to condemn someone for punishing the Lannisters for their crimes! We didn’t do anything to provoke Daenerys.”

“I don’t condemn that she punished the Lannisters. I condemn how she did it. Do you know how many people will starve this winter? Hell, do you think House Tarly deserved to be extinct?”

“House Tarly?” He looked at Sam. 

“My father and brother were burned for not bending the knee to her”, Sam offered. 

Jon let out a huff of air. “I didn’t know that.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “But whatever you think of her rule, we still need her dragons!” 

“We need to kill the Night King. As far as I’m concerned, we only need her dragons because she gave him one. The North has fought the Long Night without dragons before.”

“What do you mean she gave him one?” 

“What do you think how the wall fell? And what do you think happens if you leave a dead dragon behind? You know the Night King raises the dead, it’s most he does!” 

Jon looked pale and so utterly shocked Arya wanted to stop her sister. But she couldn’t protect him from the truth. He buried his face in his hands. 

“We cannot fight a war against dragons, Sansa”, his voice muffled. 

“And I don’t intend to. If you had just asked, I would have told you there were other ways. Especially when she had already promised to fight with us. Don’t even try to deny that, Bran saw it.”

He looked back up then, surprised and somehow Arya knew their fight was over for now.

“At least we know I won’t be fazed by her beauty”, Sansa jabbed and it was her turn to snort. 

 

They had decided to push back the big council meeting in favour of Jon telling Daenerys about his parentage in private. Sansa had strongly suggested he wait with that. He had insisted that it had to happen before anything else, “She’s my aunt, Sansa!” So Sansa had stepped down, the disdain showing him exactly what she thought. “Then go. I cannot tell you what to do. You can only serve one queen, remember?”

Arya used the free time this gave her to wander out into the yard. Slaloming around the servants shovelling snow, she made her way to the smithy. She had realized she had not been to the Winterfell smithy all that often in the past. After a few failed attempts to steel swords, when all the smiths and their hands started watching out for her, it had quickly lost its appeal. 

She knew the smithy was busy these days with everyone preparing to make more valyrian steel. The snow around it was melted from the heat of the fires, the clinking from many a hammer meeting steel somehow comforting, drowning out all the chatter, gossip and political games played everywhere else in Winterfell, even the training yard.

When she approached the smithy now, she spotted Gendry right away. She had not really thought she’d find him here so short after his arrival. But she could relate to the comfort of regressing into what you know, what you’re good at. Even then, for a second she was so overwhelmed by the sight of him that she stopped abruptly in her tracks and just found herself watching. His movements as swift and fluid as they’d always been. Sweat glistening on his bare arms. Although his hair was cropped shorter he still looked so much like the boy she’d known. And somehow, she thought he might still be. 

He looked up then. The hammer stopping mid-air before he slowly put it down and wiped his hands on a cloth. Head tilted, he moved towards her. 

“Still not much for skirts, are you?”, he asked, eyebrows raised but a smile on his face.

She scrunched up her nose. “Never much for skirts. I am the Sword of the Queen now, no one can make me wear one.” He nodded, pensive. 

“I’m glad you made it home.”

“Haven’t been here for long.” 

“No, you haven’t, I heard. I don’t have a sword”, he said, “but I’m gonna pledge my hammer to your sister.” She bit her lip. He came forward and leaned over her to retrieve his cloak from a hook on the wall. Pointing his chin towards a few barrels by the opening to the yard. 

“You came with Jon. And he’s with Daenerys Targaryen now.” She sat down, the biting wind blowing in cooling her cheeks. He huffed. 

“I also fought with the men of the brotherhood and the Hound.” She frowned. “Doesn’t mean I’m loyal to them. I owe Ser Davos my life. I left King’s Landing and fought with your brother because our fathers were friends and because Davos asked me to.” His eyes were so soft and full of truth. He wasn’t like the others. He was open and warm and Gendry. And he had changed. But he was still so familiar. She couldn’t bear looking at him for too long. Seeing too much of the girl, or boy, she used to be in his eyes. 

“I left you once for the brotherhood and it was the biggest mistake of my life.”, he added, “I won’t leave you again. I didn’t know my father. But I’m sure he would roll in his grave if I fought for another Targaryen queen. A Stark one though..” He left it hanging. Out of the corner of her eyes she could see him mustering her. 

“How have you been?”

“I thought you were dead”, she accused. He chuckled. 

“For the longest time I thought the same about you.”

“I went to Bravos to train with the faceless men.” He cocked his head again, listening. “But I couldn’t be one of them. I”, she stopped, contemplating. “It wasn’t me, either.” He nodded. 

“It’s weird, right? Being surrounded by all these people who know exactly who they are and what they’re doing.” He looked out across the yard, to the Great Keep where her siblings remained and the Guest House, currently housing members of more than one great house. 

“They don’t. At least I know Sansa doesn’t, not always. She’s just really good at tricking people into thinking she knows what she does. I think most of them are.” 

“That’s probably true. I don’t know your sister. But Jon is a good man. It’s good you have your family back.” 

“He definitely doesn’t know what he’s doing.” She rolled her eyes. “But he’s good, yes. They all are.” 

“House Stark, the most honorable of them all”, he mocked jokingly. She kicked him. Yeah. He was definitely still Gendry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised to have a first look at Dany not being an antagonist, but the Arya/ Daenerys scene I wanted to put in does fit better with the next Arya chapter I planned, as it doesn't make sense not to go on with the big council scene next, sorry!
> 
> Also, I'm gonna go on a spontaneous holiday to London from Thursday to next Tuesday, which I'm fucking pumped for, but that also means no chapter til next week (I know I suck, I'm really sorry guys). And after that I might make chapters a weekly thing. I don't want this fic to suffer from me rushing through it and we do have a lot of time to kill until s8.. I hope you'll stick with me anyway. 
> 
> As to my comment answering issues... Basically the same thing, I'm trying, really hard, but I also got a lot of uni stuff going on again (don't go to law school is all I can say) and between work, law school, volunteer stuff and family visits, I'm really booked. But with weekly chapters comments should also be easier to handle for me. 
> 
> Who really wants to discuss something, send me an ask on my tumblr @larasfairytales. I don't get asks at all, so I might be quicker to answer there. Though I do tend to answer when I feel like something needs to be addressed asap.  
> Also I'm rambling again. I don't even know if anyone actually reads the notes, sooo
> 
> /Lara out


	6. where we go from here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her whole body shuddered and then she was hugging him back, holding him, holding herself together against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse. I am so sorry. 
> 
> I'm throwing kinda fluffy Jonsa at you, please don't be mad.

Sansa’s skin was still crawling from the fight with Jon. She had told him they wouldn’t go to war with Daenerys. But she couldn’t erase the scenarios in which she wouldn’t be able to help it. Sam had plans on how to make the bolts that would kill a dragon. Officially they were to kill the dead one. But Sam had copied those plans just like the others. They were stored in her chambers, in Arya’s, with Gilly. She hadn’t wanted Gilly to have them. In the end, she’d had to admit Sam wouldn’t either if he thought the risk surpassed the benefit. 

She hated that he’d decided to tell Daenerys at once and alone. They had sent Ghost with him and without her dragons she, his aunt, wouldn’t be able to hurt him. Or so the others said. Still, she didn’t know the woman. And by everything she’d heard, wouldn’t trust her with any of her family members or friends or even stablehands. She took a deep breath and stepped out into the snow. Having left Sam with Bran, she had decided to use the time she got before meeting with Daenerys’ council as best as she could. 

Ser Jaime was shadowing her, quiet. He was contemplating something and it irked her she didn’t know what. It had been decided she wouldn’t go around Winterfell alone while so many guests were around. Some of whom would surely benefit of her gone. She mostly didn’t mind feeling like she had someone guarding her back at all times, even when she didn’t particularly trust all of the riders of the Vale that were approved to do the job. Strangely enough, Ser Jaime was one of the people she actually felt would now be loyal to her and Arya whatever happened. 

No one stopped them when they entered the guest house. 

No one could begrudge her to want to be near while in one of these rooms Jon talked to Daenerys. Or they could, but she didn’t begrudge herself and no one else knew. Officially she was here to talk to her late husband and Hand of the Dragon Queen. It was merely convenient she did, now that the council meeting was pushed back and they all had additional time on their hands. And it was faster to visit him in the big solar of the guest house instead of calling for him to hers. 

Upon entering she noted the presence of the slave girl and the Spider in addition to Tyrion. He, sipping what she presumed to be wine, sighed deeply. “Your Grace. What do we owe your presence to?” 

“The time gained by a postponed council meeting, my Lord. A lot has happened since we last met and I gathered it would be a good opportunity to catch up in private.” She inclined her head at the remaining members of the Dragon Queen’s entourage. 

The Spider just smiled slickly. “Of course, your Grace. We surely wouldn’t want to intrude.” He ushered the slave girl out with him, the guards closing the door behind them. 

Tyrion went to the side table by the window, refilling his cup. His features failing to mask his disdain. “I must admit”, he said, “that I was surprised by you both. My brother a personal guard to my late wife who happens to have become a Queen in her own right. Can’t say I saw that coming.” 

“You should have”, Sansa answered flatly. He let out a bitter laugh. 

“Yes, I should have, shouldn’t I? I underestimated you even though I knew of your rather astonishing strength and intellect. You have indeed spent years imprisoned under my sister’s influence.” 

Jaime gulped in air to retort in Sansa’s stead, but she raised her hand and just saw him clench his fists in her periphery. It definitely wasn’t his place to talk, him being Tyrion’s brother or no. 

“Cersei wasn’t the only one who taught me how to play the game, my Lord. She wasn’t even the only one who taught me who not to be when the game fades to the background.” 

“The game never fades to the background.” 

She smiled and looked to the side. “It does when handling your people, my Lord. The common folk don’t need the rules of politic interactions applied to them, they need a ruler who is kind much more than a ruler who is polite.” 

Tyrion seemed to mull her words over in his head while taking yet another sip of wine. Jaime seemed to have relaxed again. His temper would most certainly one day get him killed. 

“Isn’t that just another part of the game, though?”, Tyrion finally asked.

“In a way”, she affirmed. “A part your queen doesn’t exactly seem to excel at, I gather.” There was a crash somewhere else in the house. Tyrion winced. 

“She is a good Queen.” 

“Maybe for the South. The North is different.” Tyrion sighed again, even heavier this time. “But this is not why I’m here. I meant it when I said I won’t discuss rulership over the Seven Kingdoms before the Nightking is defeated. Right now, it is important that your queen concentrates on the reason she is here. I have in good authority that she is currently getting news that might endanger her focus.” 

His wine forgotten Tyrion was frowning at her, head cocked. “What news?” 

“The particular nature of the news doesn’t matter. I just need you to ensure she keeps her head and doesn’t fry any of my people or allies alive. None of us can afford to lose any more resources at this point in time.” 

“What I can do depends entirely on the particular nature of the news you are talking about”, he countered harshly.

“If it does, your queen really needs to learn how to put her personal feelings aside and the well-being of her people over her own. Or she truly can’t be the good queen you say she is.”, she answered, tense. Their gazes locked for al long moment. Finally, Tyrion dragged his hand over his face, muttering unhappily. 

“I will do my best”, he finally said. 

“That is all I ask”, Sansa sighed not unkindly. “It is all any of us can do, really.” A knock on the door. Sansa turned, the opening door revealing Podrick. She nodded and turned back to Tyrion. “I believe you might be inclined to a few minutes alone with your brother. She glanced at Jaime, before she turned swiftly on her heels to meet Podrick. “I will be seeing you both at the grand council meeting”, she said over her shoulder before striding out the door. 

There was nothing more for her to do but wait, so she joined the women in one of the bigger rooms of the Keep sewing wool to leather.

 

**********

 

Later she made her way to the great hall in even paces. Pod had told her of Jon joining Bran in the Godswood hours ago and as there had been no fire in the Keep since then she was tentatively hopeful the meeting of the both parties would go well. Or as well as was possible with so many people with such big egos involved. 

When she entered the hall, Podrick staying behind and Jaime opening the door for her, the only ones still missing were Daenerys and Tyrion. Mormont and Varys looked positively annoyed at that, while the slave girl sat in front of the designated meeting table her expression impassive. 

Her council, now joined by Brienne, consisted of six, Daenerys’ of four, though she wasn’t sure how to count Jon and Davos who were now quietly talking to Brienne. She also wasn’t going to send them away and she had the feeling Daenerys wasn’t either. 

No one in this room was here solely because of their affiliation but rather their skills or knowledge. 

She strode to her place at the right head of the table, frowning at the tiny figures spread out all across it. 

“We brought them from Dragonstone”, a smooth voice said. She looked up and her gaze met the one of Daenerys’ slave girl. She really ought to inquire someone about her name. 

“It’s rather unfortunate we’ll have to pack them up and spread them out again for each meeting”, Varys said. “Then again Winterfell isn’t made for ruling like the South is.”

“No, the Kings in the North always had a different style of ruling then those in the South”, Jon retorted quietly. Sansa inclined her head at him, the corners of his mouth jerking in the hint of a smile. 

The door to her left opened and a visibly exhausted Tyrion and aggravated Daenerys Targaryen entered the hall. Sansa squared her shoulders. She had told Tyrion this wasn’t all the game. Well knowing that his response had been the actual truth. It was all a game, though not all were played by the same rules. She was ready for this one. 

 

**********

 

Four hours later they had a plan, or at least more or less of a plan. Detailing who would fight where, planning the locations of walls of dry wood that they would ignite as an extra layer of protection for the castle. Everyone was on the same page regarding all (most) of the information. 

According to Bran they still had a few days until the Night King and his army would arrive, so by the time Sam had dozed off for the second time, they decided to meet again on the morrow after breaking their fast. 

Arya took Brienne and Jaime to train their fighting in the dark. 

Jon left with Davos and Daenerys’ party, all utterly unused to the cold, seemed happy to retire to their chambers. 

It was the first night in a long time that didn’t find Sam and the Starks in Sansa’s solar. 

 

**********

 

Sansa was standing alone in the room that was usually filled with Bran’s calm voice, with Arya listening quietly and still in a way that she never seemed capable of being when they were younger, with Sam’s kind smile and she suddenly felt utterly lonely. She had been standing there for less than a minute when she abruptly turned and pushed back through the door. 

Pod, who had settled outside her door, jumped and stared at her. She ignored him as she marched down the hallway and left him to scramble after her. “My Lady, where are we going?”, he asked, his voice almost a whine. She felt distantly sorry for him, him only having arrived back at Winterfell hours ago he probably should have rested or at least trained instead of playing her babysitter. 

“The crypts”, she answered without looking back. 

“But my Lady..” Sansa huffed. 

“It’s your Grace now if you want to use my proper title, Pod”, she scolded. 

“Your Grace, it is dark out”, he stated hurriedly. 

“I am well aware of that, Pod.” She stopped, eyebrow raised, facing the squire. “Are you afraid of the crypts?” 

“No, no”, he stumbled over his words, “but it is an eerie place at night, don’t you think?” 

She sighed. “No, Pod, I think it’s a rather comforting place, even at night.” He looked at her like she was crazy, but she had already turned and was marching decidedly in the direction of her destination. 

They walked through the yard, passing Arya with her students fighting in the dark. Brienne was currently blindfolded and fighting an equally impaired Jaime Lannister while Lady Lyanna, who had already trained with Arya the night before, stood by in a small crowd of girls and young women, watching amusedly. It seemed like Sansa wasn’t alone in her reluctance to be by herself in her room after all. 

She met her sister’s questioning eyes and pointed towards the crypts, earning a tight-lipped smile. 

When they reached the stairs, she turned her head back. “Wait here. I shall be back within the hour.” Pod opened his mouth to protest but she silenced him with a sharp look. 

 

**********

 

Jon stood with his back to her in front of his mother’s statue. She approached silently, stopping next to him, in front of their father. Her father. 

He breathed out a smile when Ghost got up from where he lay at Lyanna’s feet and greeted her. She couldn’t help but smile in return. 

“I told him to take care of you before I left”, he said quietly. 

“He did. Never so much as left my side.” She rubbed the direwolve’s head. “It was a bit like having Lady back.” She saw him wince out of the corner of her eye. 

“I never thought it would feel like this when I finally found out about my mother”, he confessed. 

“Of course not”, Sansa said, “You didn’t think it would entail Father not being your father.” 

“Some things he said to me, they make a lot of sense now. He wanted to tell me. It was the last thing he said to me, when I left for the Wall. ‘Next time I see you, we’ll talk about your mother’, he said. But we never met again.” She wanted to reach out, show him she was still here, they were still here, but she didn’t know how. Felt like she had lost all ability to move. “Do you think your mother knew?” 

“No”, she answered, absolutely certain. “If she had known, things would have been different.” 

He looked at her then, searching her face. “Why didn’t he tell her?” His tone was pleading now. She could hear all the years of pain within it and couldn’t do anything but shrug. 

“I really don’t know. It might have been too painful. It must have been traumatizing for him. Watching Lyanna die, finding you. Traumatizing enough he took the secret to his grave.” Her voice was gentle and full of sorrow of her own. He turned his head away, Ghost gave an uncharacteristic whine and the Jon in front of her was once more a lost little boy who didn’t know how to fit in. Her heart clenched at his vulnerability. 

She found it in herself to reach out then. To grab onto his coat (the one she had given him) and give it a short tug. It was meant to centre him in the moment, but he tensed and a beat later she was in his arms, him holding onto her for dear life, his face buried in her shoulder. 

Her whole body shuddered and then she was hugging him back, holding him, holding herself together against him. 

 

***********

 

“We need to talk about Daenerys”, she murmured into the fur at neck after a while. He sighed deeply and burrowed his face deeper into her shoulder.

“I know”, his voice was so full of regret she nearly let it go. But they had another meeting first thing in the morning and she needed them to be on the same page before that. Because there was no question anymore. All the uncertainty of the last months was gone. Jon was still theirs. He was still a Stark, Lyanna’s son, he was a part of their pack. Always. But never at the cost of the North. 

After another while, he let go of her and stepped back. Reluctantly she let him. “We should go inside”, he said. “Take advantage of the heat as long as we still can.” She nodded and together they made their way back to her chambers. Pod seemed surprised when they climbed the stairs side by side but quickly recovered and followed them, leaving quite the space between him and Ghost when he followed. No one of Arya’s students paid them any attention this time. 

And then it was the way it had been the months before he left, just the two of them in Father’s solar, plotting and planning, huddled with Ghost in front of the fire.

“She isn’t happy. In fact, she was furious. But I think she just knows as little what to do as we do.” 

Sansa bit her lip. “You do have a stronger claim to the Iron Throne than her”, she stated. 

He made a face like he had bitten on something sour. “You must know I don’t want the Iron Throne.” 

She chuckled. “There is, in fact, no one I could imagine less as a ruler in the South.” 

He sighed. “All I ever wanted was to stay in the North.” 

Something inside her flinched and hardened. He had hit a nerve. “Yet you gave it away.” 

He looked at her, head ducked. “I had to, Sansa”, he said quietly. 

“But you didn’t”, she exclaimed. “You didn’t and I just don’t understand how you could! How you could disrespect Robb that way! And Father, and Rickon and Arya and Bran. And me. After all that we’ve been through.” Her voice wavered.

“The North wasn’t independent under Father either.” He didn’t look at her anymore. “I just wanted everything back the way it was.” 

“The way it was?”, she inquired sharply. “It has been too late to go back to the way it was years ago, Jon. The people that made it the way it was are all dead!” 

“Not all of them.” He looked up then. “We’re still here. Arya. Bran.” 

“We can’t go back to the way it was.”, she repeated, calmer. “We are still here, but we have to make our own future now.” She grabbed his hand again. “If you want to or not, I rule the North now. And I will never bend the knee to Daenerys, but that doesn’t mean you can’t stay. This is your home, Jon. Winterfell will always be your home.” 

“We have to make sure it still stands when the Long Night has ended, first.”, he said, glancing at her through his lashes. And that was affirmation enough for now. 

“That we do”, she agreed and squeezed his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's been six months, no one remembers what happened before (I certainly didn't). But my life was so fucking busy the last few months and when my exams were finally written, I read the last chapters and the beginning of this one and I was so intimidated by it, thinking I would certainly screw this up, how did I even write the rest?! But, here it is.. Please do tell me what you think, I do think I kinda got the tone after 10000 times trying and failing and also feel free to yell at me in the comments.  
> I won't make any promises of even attempting regular updates (don't wanna jinx it the second time around), but there will be another update soon and I'll go from here. Please know, that I will never abandon a fic, ever.  
> So, if there's still people reading this, welcome back, I love you so much and I do not deserve you! 
> 
> /Lara out


End file.
